


That Night

by quietrook



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8033230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietrook/pseuds/quietrook
Summary: Just Jiang remembering.





	That Night

Smoke clouded my vision. There was so much of it that I could have imagined there was a fire nearby, but the only arson our pack committed was the systematic burning of cigarettes before stamping them out on the asphalt. Almost as one - no, as one - we flicked the cigs, and I watched the ashes slowly spiral to the street. This parking lot is almost always empty, save for us. Cigarette butts, beer cans and bottles, rubber left in the form of tire treads from failed and succeeded burnouts or donut holes. It was our lot. Our cars, parked in a straight line of five. Our asses on the edge of the railing, blockading the lot. It was ours, and ours alone.

I looked over to watch Swan carefully cup his hand around a new cigarette, watched as he lit it. The flame flickered against his skin but he didn't seem to mind it. I wouldn't have minded it, either. 

To my immediate left, Skov was talking loudly and animatedly about something, gesturing wildly and waving his cigarette about. He kept scattering ashes around before finally accidentally dropping his cigarette. He shrugged sheepishly, grabbed another one, and lit his off Swan's.

Prokopenko was sitting on the ground in front of us, legs stretched out, boots on the asphalt. One hand rested between his open legs, and the other on his knee. He grinned at Skov's antics and K's responses.

Kavinsky sat crosslegged on the railing, perfectly balanced somehow. His cigarette rested perfectly still between his thin lips, even though he grinned wide enough to let it fall out. He reached out a hand to grab Skov's shoulder as the smaller boy almost fell over.

I watched them all silently, my boys, holding the cigarette between my lips like it would keep me from feeling empty somehow. I met eyes with each of them, and let them fill me up with their thoughts and their feelings. I felt loved. 

Loved by my perfect boys. We owned that night, and we owned that lot, and we owned each other. I wish nothing would have ever changed.


End file.
